Extraordinary
by whatsamatta
Summary: He thought he knew a thing or two about crooks, about dames, about Hillwood. But he should have known the minute she spoke to him that the only one she didn't play a part for was herself. That alone made her more than amazing. It made her extraordinary.
1. Doomsday

_**Disclaimer: I know it has been a very long time since I posted anything, but let me just say I moved during Christmas and only just got internet, so there's my explanation. This came to me after a night of drinking and some absolutely fantastic Humphrey Bogart film noirs. So I hope you enjoy this, and now on with the show.**_

HA

_While the wind carried in the squall and the gulls, the bay was busy with life. Tugs pushing barges and ferries transporting workers, no one noticed or cared about the small group of men on an old and unused set of docks. One man – clearly the leader with his shoulders covered by his trench coat – lit up a cigarette. His two lackeys flanked him as he stared down the fourth and final man; poor bastard had his front to a .45 and his back to the sea. _

"You know that was foolish, very foolish Mr. Horowitz. You think I wouldn't have know? That word of your missteps would not reach my ears? And now I'm down here, belittling myself to the work of my boys, because you decided to go and make trouble._" Smoke flew out of his mouth with every word, he took another drag beneath his thin and dark mustache. The last man shook his head in a mixture of fear and denial, hands automatically reaching before him as if to stop the inevitable. _

"I did – I mean – it was – I ain't never tried to double cross you, honest. It was an accident, me walkin in to the trap the way I did, but ya gotta believe me I ain't never meant to cause you any trouble._" His hands trembled as the words flew out of his mouth. The mustached man laughed out a puff of smoke, his calm demeanor easing the panicky little man with his back to the sea._

"Eugene, Eugene Eugene Eugene. After every trip you make, you come out okay. This will be no different. Say, I think I'm gonna have another smoke. Would you like one?_" grounding the end of his spent cigarette beneath the heel of his boot, the man with the mustache snapped his fingers, and the man to his right offered his boss the cigarette case and lighter. Watching as the small man nodded, he turned his back on him. The man to his left stepped forward, and shot one, two, three, four, five times, until at last the small little man with his back to the sea fell off the dock. _

"Come on boys, my girl's on tonight and I don't want to miss it._" the trio walked back up the dock, two always fallowing the one, and left the corpse of the mistake to disappear within the waves._

HA

The smoke rose up in lazy circles, first around the hand that held the lit cigarette, then the head that puffed the stick, golden ringlets shining in the lamplight. Then up it wafted, casually circling the light before disappearing completely. He had watched her now for what could possibly have been an eternity, but he couldn't have been there for much longer than four hours. She had been there the entire time, smoking and drinking and laughing and dancing. And he had been there, watching her.

Her hand sat high on her waist, just below her glorious breasts while the other held the cigarette to her crimson red lips. The bright green dress, although covering all necessary parts, left nothing to the imagination as it hugged her every curve. Catching her cold blue eyes, he gulped down his shot of whiskey in one before making his way over to her.

"Say, could I get you a drink?" his question was punctuated when she lifted a glass and let the dark amber liquid touch her red lips. He wanted to touch those lips in the same way. She smiled over the rim of her glass and shook her head as if reading his thoughts.

"It would seem I have both a drink and a cigarette, and so have no use for you."

"_Gentlemen, gentleman. The time has come for the main floor show, and here she is! Hillwood's own Mistress of Malice, that Scintillating Sinner, the Dame of Deceit, Miss Helga Pataki!_" with a devious smile, the bombshell blonde stood to the raucous applause, putting her cigarette in the ashtray provided to the table.

"If you'll excuse me." And then she was gone, onto the stage and swinging her hips in time to the piano and snare drum.

"_We'll meet again my dear on doomsday, pigs will be flying through the sky. On the 12th of never, at a quarter past forever; stricken with the rapture we'll watch the world's demise . . ._" another man lit her a new cigarette, and she held it with on hand as the other traded places from just below her breast to fondling the torch she sang into.

"_The Boss just phoned, he'll be back in no time at all. Guess that issue with Horowitz was done faster than he thought._" The bartender laughed as the lackey ordered another drink and bummed a smoke from the sharp dressed youth on the barstool beside him.

Ah, now that made a his ears turn. So the Boss was coming back? Then maybe the night wouldn't be such a waste.

"_We'll meet again my dear on doomsday, a hint of Armageddon fills the air. Now that Hell has frozen over and the sun is growing colder, we'll be drawing closer cuz there's no more time to spare . . ._" the singing dame locked eyes with him again, and winked.

No, not such a waste at all . . .

"_We'll meet again my dear on doomsday, a shower full of frogs and toads. But as bleak as it may be - apocalyptic revelry - hand in hand we'll tiptoe through the carcasses and bones . . ._" the doors opened, and a man with a thin black mustache flanked by two big men entered with a whirl of the wind in their coats and a toast of the patrons. Nodding to the bartender and a smile to the crooner, the man – clearly in charge – made his way to an empty table. He lit up a cigarette as the woman on the torch slowed her voice in time to her accompaniment, and every man in the building lost attention for anything else.

"_The air's too thin to breathe on doomsday, at last we face the reckoning. And blood will fill the sea, cobwebs will cover you and me as flames engulf the remnants of this grand catastrophe . . ._" the band picked up sped again as she swayed her hips in time once more. His brain catching up with the world, he moved towards the Boss with a amicable smile on his lips and a drink in his hand.

"Say, Mr. Gammelthorpe, my name's Arnold Moser, and I'd like to buy you a drink."

"_It's doomsday!_"

"Moser huh? Well what can I say, I like the cut of your body and the shape of your head. Lucky for you a position just opened up in the company, now accepting applications. Sit down and have a drink. The show is just getting good." And so the man joined the Boss at the table, watching as the sultry blonde swanked and swanned her way about the stage, blowing smoke and raising the egos of the men before her – among other things. The bartended lit up a smoke with complete disreguard for the accelerant behind him in the building made of kindling. The rest of the men hooted and hollered as the girls serving as the striptease came out for a little hands-on entertainment.

"_It's doomsday!_"

HA


	2. The Proof

_Sneaking around, he felt no better than the common crook as he rifled through the drawers of office, disturbing papers and making a mess of it all. The only source of light came from the side lamp, and even now it made him nervous having such an obvious beacon to his whereabouts shinning out the windows. Even with the curtains drawn he felt exposed. Opening the bottom drawer, he thought he may have struck gold when the overhead light turned on._

"It tends to yield better results when you have more light to search by._" He knew that voice, and damn it all he was pissed that it both aroused and frightened him. Lifting his head, he smiled in an attempt to be charming and aloof as he carefully set the papers on the desk._

"Helga._" The blonde at the door smirked with charm as she strolled into the office, white dress clinging to her the same way that green one did all those months ago when he first laid eyes on her._

"Well, did you find what you're digging around for? Or do you need another pair of eyes and an extra set of hands?_" she sauntered over to him, sitting herself casually on the desk he was just raiding. Wiping the palms he thought were sweaty onto his chest, he smiled._

"And just what makes you think I'm lookin for something?_" leaning between her legs, she exuded sex appeal and he lapped it up. Holding onto his lapels she pulled him closer so he could taste her exotic perfume._

"Well, you're snoopin through Curly's desk, in the middle of the night, in the dark, with the door locked, and Curly out with the boys. Seems mighty peculiar if you ask me._" hands playing with the buckle of his belt, her fingers dipped lower beneath the fabric and he shuddered._

"Could you get me outta here, Arnold? Would you save me from him?_" red lips kissing slowly up from his collar bone to his earlobe. The groan building in his throat could not be held back._

"Yes_" too enrapt with the skin she granted him, and the retaliation she took back, he didn't notice the catty smile that played across her briefly freed lips. He would save her alright, if only in his own mind._

HA

"_Mr. Moser please, I'm begging you, get the man who killed my father. I'll do anything, anything at all._" Her words still hung in his ear, whispered out of her bright red lips, heavy with a pout. She was as beautiful then as the first day he saw her, when she stumbled into his office at half past two in the afternoon, eyes smudged black from her tears and handkerchief clutched tightly in her hand. Her father had been gunned down by a mob boss as a warning after their business could no longer afford protection. She wanted justice, retribution, blood. And she was beautiful for it.

Her green housewife's frock hung loosely on her thin frame as her heels strode across the carpet to his desk. The shadows from the glass pained door behind her – Moser and Johanssen Private Detectives – casts weird lines on her face and along the floor. Telling him some sad story about her poor old father who was killed by a local mob boss. Oh, she knew who it was alright but without any proof, what then? She would just be another dame massacred in court by his attorney then on the steps of the courthouse by his goons. But if they were able to get proof, if not about her father's death then another poor sap's at least – well then they would have a leg or two to stand on.

"_You've just got to help me get proof, Mr. Moser. Please . . ._"

Of course it had to be him, seeing as Gerald was in the middle of a case in which a husband nearly killed his wife, and she was seeking justice. It didn't help matters that Gerald was sweet on the little Asian Mail-Order Bride Abused Wife; but that was beside the point. The point being that this cute little red head needed his help, desperately it would seem, and he had always been told he had a bit of a hero complex. Well, that would vaguely explain what he was doing in one of the shadiest lounges to date waiting for one of the most seductive women he's ever seen to appear on stage.

Because of a beautiful dame.

"Arnold! How's my empire on the railroad doing?" the man of the hour, it would seem, appeared with his standard two men behind him and a cigarette hanging from his lips. Arnold rose to meet him, moving his hat off the table and to a vacant chair.

"Swell, Curly, real swell. Movement is up three from last month; the only bad news is Jackie K – met eyes with the northbound train last night." As his _Boss_ fell into his preferred chair, Arnold felt his words like ash on his tongue.

"Jackie huh? How'd he bite it?"

"He tripped and fell into a bunch of rope – poor klutz. It got tangled round his arms pretty tight, and those trains nowadays sure move fast." The young man realized too late with a knot in his gut that he didn't have to force the smirk that came with the remark. The descent into madness begins with the actor forgetting he's only playing a role.

"Yeah, that is a shame. Say, has my girl been on yet? I don't like men gettin an eyeful without me bein there." The man with the mustache was very possessive of his little crooner, although Arnold couldn't understand why. The man knew everything about everything of his that moved within the city, surely he knew that his little minx was promiscuous – she did after all give him head that very morning in the Boss's own office.

Before he could speak, the lights dimmed in their own answer as the spotlights landed on a voluptuous blonde in a white dress that seemed far too scandalous for such a pure color. Her lips – again bright and bold red – marked the filter of a cigarette as she took a drag while the piano man warmed up the ivories. She met eyes with her Daddy and her Toy with a coy smile before stepping up to the torch.

"_I'll pack up a suitcase and I'll hide inside your ear. I'll resurrect the memory and eradicate the fear. I'll scrawl your name across my skin until it bleeds. I'll ascend into your heaven while I'm treading in your sea. I'll do anything at all._" Another drag of that cigarette as the smoke wafted past her cold blue eyes. For a minute Arnold lost his lust in favor of fear – there was something crafty and shifty about those eyes, almost . . .

Looking to his left, he could see the same thing in Curly Gammelthrope's dark brown orbs. Yes, yes it was definitely the same look.

"_I'll grant you the nine of cups on eleven rainy days. I'll pull apart the lion's mouth and make him sing your praise. I'll challenge the great Houdini to a remarkable escape. I'll amputate the fingers upon the Hand of Fate. I'll do anything at all, just to get closer to you . . ._"

Diabolical.

"_I'll melt the highest mountain and I'll grow to ten feet tall. I'll slither like a serpent, bang my head against the wall. I'll sojourn over quicksand, I will scale the great Abyss. I'll shine the rings round Saturn, I'll roll stones with Sisyphus . . ._" lifting the hem of her dress, she flashed the audience a quick view of her garter and suddenly Arnold lost his fear, forgot he ever felt it in favor for lust again.

"_I will swallow up the ocean, I will bind the hands of Time. I will join the cow over the moon like in that nursery rhyme. I will excavate Atlantis and float with creatures from the sea. I will consult with Nostradamus and change the course of history . . ._" she winked, and everyone thought it was to them. Oh how they were wrong.

"Arnold, I have a job for you. To prove your loyalty to me." Curly's dark voice was a spine-tingling surprise after Helga's seductive one, and Arnold had to tear his gaze away from the blonde before he found himself in hot water.

"_And I will spin around and spin around and set the Earth askew. I will dig a hole to China in the hopes that we fall through and I will shrink into a teardrop just to drown inside your eyes. A thousand things preposterous, but I'll try and I'll try and I'll try just to get closer to you._"

"There is a pest, a mole in my organization, and I need you to take him out and show him the docks." Between the lines and the dark, the order was clear. At last the chance to find the proof. Glad he wasn't' the one being taken for a walk, Arnold reached into his pocket to fish out a cigarette and a lighter. His hands didn't tremble from years of practice, but he was grateful to his nerves nonetheless.

"_I'll do anything at all._"

The room erupted with men standing on their feet in applause, save for Arnold and Curly, who would not break each other's stare. It was only broken by Helga in a sweep of white throwing herself into the seat between the two men and dutifully waiting for one of them to offer her a cigarette. Arnold was first, but Curly gave her the light.

"You were wonderful tonight, Helga." The blonde man offered, to which she smiled and kissed him on the cheek, leaving an incriminating pair of red lips behind.

"Good work." While Curly kissed her with a hand on her thigh, Arnold could feel her foot run up along his own. It was dangerous. It was scandalous. He loved it.

The descent into madness moves faster still.

HA


	3. Quintessentially Unreal

_**Disclaimer: I realized after I posted the previous chapter, I gave no disclaimer. Oh well. I don't own Hey! Arnold or the songs of Jill Tracy. Enjoy.**_

HA

_She could see the carts of the train moving quickly over the fence as she stood outside and smoked. It was days like this, when the sun was just peaking through the green leaves of the trees and the sky was clear, that she almost felt what her mother would deem normal. Like when she was simply little Helga Geraldine, living with her alcoholic mother and abusive father; and beautiful sister who found herself married to the butcher and knee-deep in brats. But Helga was lucky. She just happened to have snuck out that night, into the speakeasy across the bridge on the day _**he**_ took over the business. She was taken with him, the smooth timber of his voice and the way he handle those around him. He was twenty two and Kingpin of the Underworld._

_She was sixteen and engaged._

_That was the night she broke free._

"Helga._" His smooth voice seemed to come out and physically touch her. Snuffing her smoke stick out in her ashtray, she turned to see her lover sitting up in bed, sheets wrapped possessively around his naked waist. With a catty smirk more seductive without the makeup, she made her way back inside the bedroom and let loose the belt of her robe. Well-known hands slid up her legs, past her waist to fondle her breasts as she bent over him sensually. _

"I kinda like the way you move me, sleek and slick and upside down. This blur of colors rushing through me but you can't utter a sound._" Placing a kiss delicately on his lips, she sighed as he guided her onto his waiting erection. A muttered oh god slipped through her mouth when his moved towards her neck._

"I kinda like the way you push me into a state of disarray. Let's conjure up a castle and we'll toss the key away_." His deep baritone was a contradictory calming to the heat he stirred within her nether regions. As she slowly rocked them both into place of oblivion, she still had the presence of mind to hold speech a bit more._

"That new boy of yours is suspicious. You should keep better tabs on him._" Her remark garnered a harsh thrust from her lover._

"My new boy? But my darling he rolls over at the snap of your wonderful fingers._" As if to prove hi point, he rolled her over at the same moment, enjoying her laugh that tumbled into moans._

"You forget he came into the club that night looking for **you**._" A few more thrusts, and then he lost his momentum. Dark eyes falling nearly black, he stared into her own orbs as if contemplating his next move on a chessboard._

"But he found **you**._"_

_Sex was abandoned._

_She matched his intense gaze with one of her own, and although she would never show it she chose her next words carefully._

"He thinks he's going to save me from here, this life, you._" It was obvious to anyone who should happen upon them they were in a stalemate – obvious to everyone but them that is. He leaned back in order for her to sit up; in the distance the train horn blared at a railroad crossing._

"Will you let him?_" _

_She was quiet for some time, looking down at the sheets between them coyly. He knew she had her answer – and she knew that he knew. It was a game, and just as she knew the answer, she loved to tease and he loved her teasing. She would make him wait for as long as she could, because the danger of his fury was exciting._

_He was exciting._

_Wrapping her arms delicately around his naked shoulders, she leaned into his embrace while nibbling on his lips. Her voice washed over him like cigarette smoke._

"I know what it means to be a dreamer, and I know what it means to be alone. I know exactly how I want it to feel – quintessentially unreal._"_

HA

The wind was particularly fierce out on the docks are Arnold stood with three other men – only one stood with his back to the others as he gazed out at the sea. The undercover private detective couldn't help but wonder if the young man had an idea about what was going down. Clearly Curly's men don't take leisurely strolls down past the wharf. But some things couldn't be helped, once a schmuck always a schmuck so the saying goes.

Casually Arnold took his revolver out of his pocket and watched the young man in front of him.

"Tell me Sid, did you really think he didn't know about you?"

The young man before him adjusted the fedora on his head before looking over his shoulder to his assassin. And then he spoke.

"Do you really think he doesn't know about _you_?"

Not wanting to risk premature exposure, Arnold raised the gun and fired. His victim fell but didn't make it over the edge – the two men accompanying him moved forward and pushed him the rest of the way. Too bad, Sid was a good cop, but he had a mouth to match the size of his big nose.

For a moment Arnold was afraid that the goons with him suspected him of a double cross, but when they moved on to the car as if the dead man hadn't spoken he figured they just thought he was fooling with the boss's girl. Which was itself a betrayal punishable by death. But something told Arnold that if he was caught sneaking with Helga, Curly would deal with him personally.

As they all piled into the Packard, Arnold's heart stopped for a minute when only one guy – a wheezy gent they called Brainy – climbed in. he thought for sure he was going to be smoked, but Brainy just turned in the driver's seat, looked Arnold square in the eye, and wheezed.

"The Big House isn't the only place that carries life sentences." Then he turned back around, honked the horn, and waited. As soon as the second bloke slipped into the car, they peeled off towards the club; Arnold knew the quiet man had just warned him. It was ominous, it was a reality check.

It was exciting.

And that excitement only grew and bubbled until it became something unrecognizable within him as he began to fantasize. It had started as simply Arnold whisking a blonde away from a dark place and they would live together with a white fence, a dog, and two kids – a boy and a girl. But the closer they got, the more narrow and twisted it became, until all he saw was the club where his lovely Helga would be singing sweetly to the boys she tortured. And when he would walk in she would smile and maybe even wink. The barman would slide him a drink – whiskey – and he would take a seat right in the middle of the room, where everyone could see him. When her song finished she would join him, nibbling on his earlobe as he showered her with jewelry. She would whisper how much she loved him, and call him daddy.

And he was the King of the Underworld.

HA


End file.
